We have this plant living in the office.  Although Im not entirely sure “Living” would be the correct word.  It wasn’t exactly, alive to begin with.  But none the less, it lives in the office.  it’s a fake plant, you see.  A little fake plant that looks so very real even though it still has the tag from six years ago hanging off one of its very rubbery leaves.  We never knew what kind of plant it was – it was just cute, and someone no doubt had a birthday.

When I was in Mexico – we had a “Field trip” with the kids.  Where we were taking them on a walk to the beach.  On the way there they stopped for a break and the kids went absolutely WILD with these “Flowers” that were there.  It was only then that I realized these plants that were growing – strongly resembled the one that we have sitting here.  In all its nice rubbery form.  To my surprise they even felt rubbery!!  I whirled around looking for someone to share my excitement with – but how could I tell my nino that this plant was the same kind as the fake one we had sitting in our office at home – when I couldn’t even say good morning properly!!

It didn’t seem to matter – they were all excited.

Picking the plants they doled them out to anyone they could find.  Three for me, one for them – I got flowers from probably every kid.  My nino was busy handing them out faster than she could pick them when all of a sudden – “AMIGOS PLEASE!  DON’T LET YOUR NINOS PICK THE FLOWERS!!!” it was repeated in Spanish a time or two, and suddenly everything came to a halt.

Hands stopped mid air, grins were frozen, a flower dropped from a boys hair, while another had two stuck behind his ears.  I was handed yet another flower – which Im sure was just to get the evidence out of her hands, but I smiled and tried to tell her not to pick anymore – which no doubt what I said was most likely “Good afternoon.”

When we started moving again I cautiously peeked in my bag I was carrying.  Two flowers sat in the bottom.  Two rubbery leaves, with giant flowers attached to the top.  Two flowers that would be wilted beyond belief and smashed flat by the time I would get home.

Flowers that were handed to me by kids who weren’t suppose to be picking them.  Flowers to remind me of that excitement in not only my mind – but theirs as well.  They most likely thought I was just as excited as they were – to see the flowers – and I, well, I was just excited to see the rubbery plants covering the grounds of Mexico.

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